


the branches we bind

by ADreamingSongbird



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ash's gang and Lao make cameos, Childhood Friends, Griffin Dies (and it's jo's fault), Hedgewitch Eiji Okumura, M/M, Magic, Non-Chronological, Sorcerer Ash Lynx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 14:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19770241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamingSongbird/pseuds/ADreamingSongbird
Summary: The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have miles to go before I sleep.Or: The Darkness returns, and Ash Lynx would do anything to protect his love.





	the branches we bind

**Author's Note:**

> the italicized line in the summary was taken from frost's "stopping by woods on a snowy evening", and the title was taken from ["woodland"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJ3-P2lwhZ8) by the paper kites! 
> 
> this piece was a collaboration with [célia](https://twitter.com/serya_chan)! it was a fun time c: you can find her art [here](https://twitter.com/Serya_chan/status/1149420438730235904) !!

_i. mementos_

* * *

The winter wind’s bitter kiss is almost welcome amid the screams and the fighting, the crash of swords, and the terrible scrape of metal on metal, in the red, red snow. It whistles around the edges of their armor and into the cracks to nestle against bare skin that’s overheated by exertion, but none of them can even stop to appreciate its relief. It’s all they can do to survive.

Shorter drops into a low crouch, ducking out of the way just in time as a bolt of dark, crackling magic whizzes overhead. It’s close enough that he can smell the ozone in its wake.

If they can’t stop the darkness here, they’ll have to fall back, deeper into the woods. There are villages and towns and cities there, full of loved ones who won’t be able to stand and fight against the winter’s blight. The snow is swirling in a mad dance that turns his vision white and he grits his teeth as the wind picks up further.

He has to survive this. Their troop has to win this. Nadia and Sing are counting on him. He can’t let them down.

And then the wind rises.

It surges like a wild thing, ferocious like a tiger but silent like death, and Shorter staggers back against its force. The dark magic fizzling in the air is ripped to shreds by a furious gale, the ruthless wind whipping itself into a frenzy and tearing at the fissure in the veil between worlds like a wild thing.

A deep, heady sense of relief bubbles up in Shorter’s stomach and grows, grows until it spreads through his limbs and spills from his mouth in a joyous, raucous laugh. “Yeah! _Yeah!_ Fuck it up, Ash!”

He raises his sword and screams a victorious cry into the shrieking winds. Every hunt is a race against time, every battle a desperate game of life and death. And this time, they’ve won.

They’ve _won!_

A flash of bright, bright green light illuminates the entire wood, for just a moment, brighter than the afternoon sun, and Shorter squeezes his eyes shut on reflex against being blinded. The light is the sign that they’ve secured a victory, that they’re one battle closer to having survived the winter, to going home.

The wind dies as abruptly as it came, and the silence in its aftermath is deafening. Shorter lowers his sword and looks up into the sky, heart pounding from the leftover exhilaration and terror of battle.

Serene, silver stars glimmer overhead, strewn far away in a midnight field. There is no moon, not tonight, and the woods are dark and deep. Bare branches stretch like skeletal hands, reaching and reaching for the stars they’ll never quite grasp.

He lowers his gaze again and sweeps over the trees, looking for…

There.

A pair of green lights, shimmering like a cascade of moonlight spilt over a multifaceted emerald, shines wanly from the dark forest, a few meters to his left. They’re nowhere near as bright as they were just a few heartbeats ago, dim now like they’ve completely exhausted themselves, and even as he watches their light begins to fade away. Before it can vanish entirely, he hefts his sword and hurries toward them.

By the time he reaches Ash, his eyes are no longer glowing at all, and he looks worn and spent and ashen-grey. He’s leaning against a tree, face upturned to the stars, and half of his hair has fallen from its ponytail and lies limp and flat around his face.

Shorter stops for a moment, taking him in as best as he can in the darkness. He could be a marble statue, so still he is, and so breathtaking. Perhaps it’s a trick of the low lighting, but his face looks… _wistful_.

He straightens as soon as he hears Shorter’s boots crunching through the snow, and by the time he draws near enough to look at him properly, there’s no trace of that softness, that sadness, that sweet and terrible yearning from just a moment before. His face is once again stern and impassive.

“Shorter. Glad to see you made it in one piece. Where’s everyone else?”

Shorter claps him on the shoulder. “Great timing, as always, buddy! I got separated from the rest, but last I saw, they were all still together. Should be okay.”

“Good,” Ash says, and looks around. “Which way were they?”

“Uphill.” Shorter starts to lead the way, stomping the snow down to walk more easily. The cold is starting to seep into every fiber of his muscles, and he wants to get back to his tent and bedroll, the sooner the better. “One of those mindless knights tackled me at some point and we both fell down the bluff. Thanks for saving my ass. I owe you one.”

Ash offers him a small smile, swaying slightly as they walk. Shorter wordlessly holds out his arm, just in case he needs a hand—performing sealing spells always takes a lot out of him, leaving him with exhaustion dragging at his heels and sinking heavily into his bones—and Ash takes it, leaning on him as they scramble up a pile of loose rocks and start climbing the bluff.

“It’s no problem,” he says, several minutes later. “We all swore to take care of each other, remember?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” Shorter helps him over the crest of the hill, and sighs in relief when he spots the pinprick lights of their campfire in the distance, through the trees. “Let’s get back already. I’m starving, and I want something hot.”

The circle of dancing firelight grows enticingly closer as they trudge through the wood, both bone-weary and frozen to the core. Just as they approach the campground, the firelit shadows in the trees flickering around them, Ash cries out.

“Shit! _Shit!”_

“Whoa!” Shorter jerks back. “What is it?!”

Ash takes a moment to answer, frantically patting his coat and its pockets as if he’ll find what he’s looking for there before he gives up and starts to search the snow around his feet. “My locket, I can’t find it—fuck, where _is it?”_

Shorter’s eyes widen, his stomach dropping as he scans the snow. All of them have mementos of home—small things, light and easy to transport—that keep their hearts from filling with darkness and ice and despair. It’s important, on long expeditions like this, for every ordinary soldier, but even more so for their sorcerer.

He can’t cast spells if he has no heart left to fuel them, after all, and what meager power can a spell draw from a frozen heart?

(And if he can’t cast his strongest spells, he won’t be able to seal fissures anymore—and if he can’t seal them, then they’re almost certainly doomed, even if they try to regroup and find another sorcerer. Out here in the bitter nights in the wild woods, vulnerability spells death.)

“Shit, shit, shit!” Ash sounds like he’s close to panicking. “I had it just a minute ago, the chain was fine, where did it go?!”

Shorter backtracks several steps, scanning the ground where they walked. “It has to be here somewhere,” he attempts, holding out what he hopes is a soothing hand. “We’ll find it.”

Cold and reluctant, they spend several minutes tracing their own steps, stumbling through the snow. The one saving grace is that the wind is still and the night is silent, and at least they’re walking on snow they’ve already packed down.

“What’s in it?” Shorter asks, voice hushed. “Do you have any other pictures or charms like what it was?”

“No.” Ash’s voice is low and rife with distress and resignation. “He only gave me one.”

Shorter looks up. It’s the first time he’s ever heard Ash speak of his past. “Who?”

Ash presses his lips together and wordlessly turns away. Above them, the stars sparkle and wheel their silent dance through the sky, waiting for morning.

* * *

_ii. halcyon_

* * *

Eiji runs through the field chasing the last of the magical sparks, laughing in delight. “Aslan! Aslan, that was so cool! Do it again, do it again!”

He skips a few steps and stops, turning around for a minute to scan the golden fields in the hazy afternoon sunlight. Aslan is running to catch up, his hair shining just as golden as the grass, and he’s beaming as bright as the sky.

“You saw it? Did you see how big it got?! I never got it to go that big before!”

Eiji shrieks with joy and claps his hands. “That’s so cool! Your magic is so cool! Do you think you could make other stuff with it, too?”

“Maybe!” Aslan puffs out his cheeks, thinking. “I’ve never really been able to make it hold shapes, though. It’s hard, I have to concentrate a lot just to make it into a ball like that… so I don’t know if I can.”

“I’m sure you can!” Eiji grabs his hands and squeezes them, bouncing up and down. Aslan’s magic is the most amazing thing he’s ever seen! His own is slow and sleepy and earthy and boring, but Aslan? Aslan does _sorcery,_ not just witchcraft. “It’ll just take practice. But you can do it!”

Aslan looks up at him with those big green eyes. He always looks so serious when he makes this face! “You think so?”

“I know so!” Eiji beams. “You’ll do it and everything else too! You’re gonna be the best sorcerer in the world.”

Aslan flushes a soft petal pink, cheeks rosy in the afternoon glow. “Oh… thanks, Eiji. And you’re gonna be the best witch!”

Eiji waves a hand dismissively. Witches are kinda boring. “Maybe. But whatever! Let’s go home, I wanna get some water.”

“Okay!” Aslan brightens, and they start meandering back through the field. “Do you wanna see the spell again too? I can show Griff!”

“Yeah!” Eiji looks at him with wide eyes. The spell was so pretty! It made a big ball of sparkles and warmth and it was so cool! He doesn’t get how sorcery works, not like witchcraft and herblore and healing, but Aslan always glows when he talks about it (sometimes literally), and that’s all the encouragement Eiji needs to want to see more. He loves when Aslan gets excited about things.

Delighted, Aslan grabs his hand and pulls him along. “Okay! Let’s go!”

They run side-by-side through waves of tall grass gilded in the sun, laughing with fingers intertwined as they splash through the creek. It’s hot outside under the summer sun, and the water is pleasantly cool around their ankles.

Once Aslan’s house appears through the trees in the distance, Aslan picks up the pace and calls out to the open windows. “Griff! Griff, guess what! I figured out the shiny lights! Come out!”

Griffin opens the back door after a moment, holding two tantalizing glasses of cool water. “There you two are!” he exclaims, nudging the door closed again. “Here, drink up, you’ve been running around for a while. Then you can practice and show me the lights!”

“I’ll show you first!” Aslan declares, letting go of Eiji’s hand to plant his feet firmly and screw his eyes shut in concentration. Eiji ambles over to Griffin and takes one of the glasses, drinking so fast he nearly swallows it all the wrong way.

The magic doesn’t take long to swell. Ash raises his hands, palms pressed together, and a glimmer of light grows between them, shimmering like the eager sunlight dancing on the ripples in the creek.

“Wow!” Griffin praises, very impressed. Eiji looks up at him to gauge his reaction, just to make sure he’s as proud of Aslan as he should be, and he _is._ “That’s very bright, Aslan! You really did get it, that’s amazing!”

“I told you I could! I can do it now!” Aslan sounds smug, and then he laughs and the light pulses and—

It _flares_ like the midafternoon sun, so bright it’s blinding, and Eiji stumbles backwards with a cry of surprise and the glass falls from his hand and then his foot catches in the grass and he’s falling and he can’t see and—

When his vision clears, his arm is trapped beneath him and it hurts and he’s covered in water, and everything is blurry but Griffin is kneeling next to him. Aslan runs over, eyes wide, and stands behind Griffin and frets as Griffin scoops Eiji up, setting him against his hip and walking back to the house.

Eiji takes a moment to try and breathe, but he’s scared and his arm hurts and he doesn’t know what’s happening, so he just buries his face in Griff’s neck and sniffles. It’s not until the tears drip from his chin that he realizes he’s already crying.

“Eiji? Eiji, are you okay?” Aslan trots at Griffin’s heels like a frightened, anxious puppy. “Oh no, Griff he’s _bleeding,_ what do we do?!”

“It’s okay, Aslan.” Griff’s voice is calm and steady, and his hand on Eiji’s back warm and reassuring. “It’s just a small cut. Don’t worry.”

Eiji clutches at his shirt and tries to stop crying. Griffin sets him gently on the table and kisses the top of his head, then goes to the kitchen and gets a cloth and a bandage and some water, and Aslan grabs Eiji’s hand in both of his, tears welling up in his eyes too.

“I’m sorry! I made you get hurt, I’m so sorry, Eiji!”

“Hush, Aslan,” Griff cuts in gently. “It’s okay. He’s gonna be fine. It wasn’t your fault. Move, okay? Let me take care of him.”

Aslan's tears spill over, but he does as he's told. Griffin takes Eiji's arm and starts cleaning the wound, and Eiji squeezes his eyes shut and looks away. It's red and ugly and bad, and it _hurts._

"Don't cry," Griff murmurs, kissing his head again. "Both of you, don't cry, alright? Everything is gonna be just fine."

And in the end, it is.

* * *

_iii. calamity_

* * *

It is in the autumn of Aslan’s sixteenth year that the first fissure appears.

It’s not cold enough to be snowy or icy yet, but it’s not so warm that it’s still pleasant to meander the paths of the wood in the waning hours of the day. The wind carries a sting, a promise of the frigid bite soon to come, and as he walks next to Eiji, leaves crunch under their feet.

“It’s so cold,” Eiji grumbles, hugging Aslan’s arm to his chest. He’s only a little taller now—Aslan stands at the height of his ears, and shows no signs of being done with his growth spurt. “I hate winter.”

“It isn’t even winter yet, you big baby,” Aslan scoffs. “You just can’t handle anything that’s not summer.”

Eiji wrinkles his nose. “Not true! I like spring!”

“You’re always hanging off me in spring ‘cuz you’re still cold!” Aslan elbows him playfully. “Don’t lie.”

“Fine, but at least I don’t turn so red I could hide in a box of tomatoes in summer!” Eiji retorts. They’re getting close to Eiji’s house now, close enough that Aslan can see Griff standing on the front porch and waiting for them. “I’m cold. Stop being mean and just be a good handwarmer, like you should.”

“I’m not here to keep your hands warm,” Aslan sniffs. “I’m here to eat all of your mom’s cooking and not leave you _any.”_

“As if you could.”

“Boys!” Griffin calls, raising a hand. “Nice to see you made it! Nozomi and I were beginning to wonder if you’d ever show up. Nahoko already gave up on you. Jeez, Ash, didn’t I raise you to be punctual?”

“Yeah,” Aslan answers, “but Eiji’s a bad influence.”

Eiji punches his shoulder. The wind begins to blow harder through the trees.

And then the sun goes dark.

It’s only for the briefest of moments, but it’s enough for Aslan to stumble on his way up the porch steps and for Eiji to cry out as Aslan falls against him, and in the pitch-black a shape shoves past them hard enough to send them both toppling to the ground.

When the sun returns, there’s a monster standing in front of the house.

It’s humanoid, like a knight, but cut out of the world—it has no detail, no shadow, no form, just a hole in reality that’s taken the form of what a knight might look like. Its head is too big for its body and one of its arms has too many joints, and its sword is bulbous and too-wide.

Fear roots Aslan to the ground. Eiji scrambles to his feet, seems to have the belated realization that Aslan hasn’t gotten up, and grabs his arm and hauls him up. “Aslan! Get up get up get up! What is that—”

That’s when Aslan realizes that Griffin isn’t behind them anymore.

The fear turns to white-hot terror, even as Eiji drags him backwards, up the stairs and away from the monstrous swordsman. “Where’s Griff?”

“I—I don’t know,” Eiji whispers, stumbling back towards the house door. The monster doesn’t move, just observing them with its eerie, empty head, full of nothing but the blackness between the stars. “He was here, he was…”

“Aslan! Eiji!”

Griffin’s voice rings out, taut and strained, and Aslan gasps. “Griff! Where are—”

The monster turns around, and they realize why they couldn’t see Griff. Ash’s stomach drops out from under him, and his knees buckle, except that Eiji catches him around the waist and hauls him back. When he finds his voice, it tears out of his throat in a wild scream, raw with bold, red desperation. _“Griff!”_

The knight wasn’t watching them before. Its back was to them.

It was facing Griffin.

Griffin, on his knees behind it, with a spear of inky darkness impaled in his stomach.

Aslan nearly throws up. “Griff! _Griff!_ Get away—you have—you have to run!”

“Both of you get out of here!” Griff orders, and then he coughs. Blood spurts from his mouth and he hacks and gasps, a horrible, gurgling sound, and Aslan screams again. Only Eiji’s arms around him keep him from tearing down the stairs and attacking the monster with his fists, magic and swords and everything utterly forgotten.

In this moment, he isn’t a sorcerer’s apprentice. He isn’t a knight-in-training. He isn’t even a young man with a reasonable amount of self-defense skill. He’s just Griffin’s little brother, and he’s living a nightmare.

“You have to run,” Griffin begs, choking on more blood. The monster seems vaguely bewildered, slowly pulling its spear back through him, and he _screams,_ a horrible, tortured sound. More blood pools on the ground. “Ngh—you have to—both—go! Get out of here! Get Nozomi, get Nahoko, and _run—_ AUGH!”

Eiji seems to have lost his voice. He mutely tugs at Aslan’s wrist and pulls him back toward the door, toward what should be the safety of his childhood home, but Aslan can’t come with him. His brother’s precious blood is spilling down the spear and dripping onto the dead leaves and with every drop that falls, the realization hits harder and harder that this is real and this is the _end._

“Eiji,” Aslan whispers. “I need you to get your mom and your sister out of here. And then wait for me.”

Eiji lets out a strangled whimper and does not move, arms clamped tight about Ash’s waist like iron.

Aslan reaches deep within himself and pulls at the strings of magic in his core. They vibrate with a deep thrum, resonating with his soul: he wants to protect what he loves, and he loves with every fiber of his being.

He _will_ protect them.

The magic spreads from his hands out to his sides and then into a huge circle, flaring out like the sun and shining burning-hot light directly into the monster. He can’t let this thing take Griff, can’t let this thing hurt Eiji, can’t can’t can’t—

The light surges.

He can’t!

It’s brighter than the moon, reaching for the sun—

He _can’t—_

Everything goes white.

When his vision clears, the monster is gone. He falls to his knees, suddenly exhausted and spent and drained, and closes his eyes, the blood roaring in his ears. He only lifts his head a few seconds (hours) (eternities) later, when he hears a sob.

Eiji is covered in Griffin’s blood, kneeling at his side in the now-empty clearing, and weeping brokenly against his chest. There is no light from his healing magic, and Griffin isn’t moving.

It takes Ash several seconds too long to understand why.

Eiji’s magic can only heal the living, and Griff is already dead.

* * *

_iv. bereavement_

* * *

“You’re sure you have to go?”

Aslan sighs, turning from his pack and dropping his arms to his sides. Eiji stands in front of him, eyes downcast and arms wrapped around himself, and bites his lip.

“Yeah,” he says, voice soft. It’s nearly dawn, the town painted in a soft silvery light, and though the sun hasn’t crested the hills yet, the sky is already bright and clear. Eiji looks beautiful, standing under it. “I can’t let anything happen here. Not again.”

The fissures only open in the winter, the legends go. It’s been so long that no one believed them anymore… until they came true. Too many winters went by without them, and everyone grew complacent.

Griffin was the price they had to pay.

It wasn’t fair. It still isn’t fair. Why did Aslan have to lose him when it was never his fault that everyone forgot the ancient spells and wards? And now the darkness is returning, and Griffin is already dead, and—

And he can still never shake the image of that twisted, dark soldier from his mind, nor the memory of his terror, or of Eiji’s mute dread. Griff gave his life to save him and Eiji that day, shoving them out of the way of that spear thrust. Aslan has to make sure it wasn’t in vain.

He has to keep Eiji safe.

Eiji lets out a soft breath, comes forward, and tucks himself into his arms. It’s been three years, and Ash is taller now, just the right height to rest his chin atop Eiji’s head when they stand like this. He’s going to miss the simple beauty of it, the way it feels just like home.

But the Winter Guard is the only option they have. All of the villages in the wood are sending people, and sorcerers are in high demand. They’re the only ones who can seal the cracks. And he _has_ to protect Eiji.

“I’ll miss you,” Eiji mumbles into his neck, arms tight about his waist. “I’ll miss you a lot.”

“I know, Birdie.” Aslan hesitates, then presses the sweetest hint of a kiss into his soft, dark hair. “I’ll miss you, too. I’ll think of you every day.”

“I know you won’t forget me,” Eiji says, and laughs wetly. Aslan holds him tighter, wanting to bypass the limits of the world and physical forms and just wrap his very essence around him and never let go. He likes to think of their souls as bound together, hopelessly intertwined until they just melt into one. “I’ll beat you up if you do.”

“As if you ever could.” Aslan kisses his hair again, a little bolder, a little sadder. Eiji holds on a little tighter. “You’re too soft to ever follow through on that.”

“I’m not.” Eiji clutches twin fistfuls of the back of his shirt. “But I guess you just have to come home to me and find out, don’t you?”

“I’ll only find out if I come home and I’ve forgotten you,” Ash corrects, drawing back just enough to tip Eiji’s chin up and press their foreheads together. Eiji closes his too-bright eyes and nuzzles his nose, tender enough that Ash nearly forgets the rest of the world exists. “And I promise I could never do something like that.”

He wants to kiss Eiji. He wants to sweep Eiji into his arms and wrap him up and never let go, wants to whisk him somewhere safe from the curse of the woods and warm all year round, to spend every day doting on him and promising him that he’s incredible and beautiful and perfect until he believes it. He wants to kiss Eiji every day, morning and noon and night, until neither of them has to worry about anything else.

The strength of his longing surprises him with its vehemence, and magic flickers in his fingertips before he closes his eyes and reminds himself not to let it out. It took painstaking years of practice and failure and practice and failure to be able to control the spontaneous outbursts of it that accompany strong emotions, but he’s finally done it, and he won’t let it ruin his last beautiful moments with Eiji.

A thousand and one things fly through his mind— _if I never come home_ s and _when I see you again_ s and _what-if_ s and _should-have_ s. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, instead of any of them.

Eiji’s eyes fly open in surprise for a moment before he breaks into a soft, sweet smile, like the sun’s first light breaking over the horizon. “Why did you wait until now to ask?”

Ash kisses him in lieu of an answer, because he needs to know how important he is and how much he loves him before he leaves for what may well be a suicide mission. No one knows how effective these spells and runes will be against the darkness. It’s been thousands of years since the last time this happened, and they’ve only had three years to prepare. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever come home again. All he knows is that he has to kiss Eiji now, or he’ll regret it forever.

Eiji melts like snow in spring, eyes fluttering closed as he presses closer to Aslan. Aslan cups his cheeks and kisses him fervently, with all the fear and the worry and the love and the longing that have been building up in him for years, and Eiji clutches at him and kisses him back with _love_ and _love_ and _love._

When he pulls back, Eiji kisses him again, and then again, and then he hiccups and chokes on a sob, and then he’s crying brokenly, pressing messy kisses all over Aslan’s face, from his mouth to his cheeks and to his brows and his forehead. “I—I don’t want you to go—I know, I know you h-have to but I just—I want you to stay!”

“Oh, Birdie…” Aslan’s heart strains in his chest as his eyes water. “I’ll come home to you, I promise. I promise.”

“You have to,” Eiji sobs. “You have to, you hear me? If you don’t I’ll have to come find you, and I’ll be mad!”

Aslan cups his cheek and kisses his forehead. “I will. I will, I swear.”

“I—I got you something,” Eiji manages, wiping his face on his sleeve, and then he digs into his pocket and fumbles at a pendant on a chain for a moment. It’s a locket, Aslan realizes, and his heart cracks as Eiji takes his arms from around him to open it and show him. It’s one of his mother’s rare photographs, just the two of them together, sleepy and smiling. It was taken two months ago, one morning after a long night. “It’s for good luck.”

Aslan stares for a long, long moment.

“Put it on me?”

Eiji nods, hands shaking as he reaches up and carefully clasps it around Aslan’s neck. Aslan hugs him tight as soon as he ‘s done, kisses his forehead again, and sways him back and forth.

“I’ll write to you when I can,” he promises.

Eiji burrows into his neck. “I know. Just—just be safe, okay? And—and if you get homesick just look at that. It’ll remind you we’re always here for you. Okay?”

“I promise,” Ash murmurs.

He manages to steal one more kiss before he leaves; the sun climbs higher over the hills and spills its golden rays all over the town as he rides away.

* * *

_v. forgiveness_

* * *

He hurt Eiji.

He hurt Eiji he hurt Eiji he hurt Eiji.

Griff said it wasn’t his fault but he’s the one who lost control of the magic and made it too bright and that’s why Eiji fell and the glass broke and sliced his arm open, and that’s why he bled so much and _he hurt Eiji,_ and it was all his fault!

He doesn’t know how to control it, he’s realizing. He doesn’t know _how._ And when he feels strongly about anything, even if it’s feeling good, things go wrong.

He hurt Eiji!

If feeling happy because he’s with the people he loves is what leads to them getting hurt, maybe he shouldn’t ever be around people he loves, not ever, ever again.

And then there’s a knock on his door.

Aslan goes stiff like he’s just been doused in icy water. “Go away, Griff!”

“I’m not Griff,” Eiji’s voice comes through the door, soft and slightly muffled. “Let me in?”

Horror surges through him. Eiji can’t be here! “No! Go away! You have to go!”

Eiji sounds hurt. “What? Why?”

“I hurt you!” Aslan clutches at his blanket and curls into a smaller ball on the bed. “You have to stay away from me! What if I hurt you again?”

“It wasn’t a big cut, Aslan,” Eiji says, his voice gentle. “And it was an accident. I’m fine.”

“I hurt you,” Aslan says adamantly, shaking his head even though he knows Eiji can’t see him. “I can’t do that again! You have to go away. Please, Eiji, it’s for your own good, you have to!”

“I don’t have to go anywhere!” Eiji sighs deeply, and then from the other side of the door there’s a soft thump. Aslan stares at it distrustingly, and then Eiji speaks up again. “I’m not leaving until you let me in.”

“I hurt you,” Aslan cries.

“It was an accident,” Eiji repeats. “And I am fine. Open this door and you will see. I’m fine, Aslan. Please open the door.”

“I shouldn’t.” Aslan digs his fingers into his arms, tense and rigid and wound like a spring. He’s bad, he hurts his loved ones, and he needs to stay away. He hurt Eiji.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Eiji says, voice soft and patient. “And I am staying right here until you realize it, too. It’s okay, Aslan. I’m okay. It’s okay.”

Ten agonizing minutes later, Aslan opens the door.

Eiji’s still there. He looks up with a tiny smile and holds out his arms, and Aslan chokes on the words in his throat before he collapses to his knees and just _holds_ him.

Eiji smiles against his hair. “I told you I wouldn’t leave,” he says, and it’s true.

He never does.

* * *

_vi. reunion_

* * *

“My ass is so sore,” Shorter complains, groaning as he rolls his shoulders. “I can’t _wait_ to hit the inn and get a hot bath.”

“Why’s your ass sore?” Lao elbows him. “Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

“We’ve been walking for _days!”_ Shorter elbows him back. “There’s no need to be nasty, you dipshit. I _wish_ I’d gotten laid, but there’s no time ‘cuz we’re just walking and walking! So—”

“Well,” Bones jumps in, “you could say you got fucked by our captain and his _grueling_ pace.”

“Say that again and I’ll knock the rest of your teeth out,” Ash deadpans, apparently listening all along, and all of them jump.

He’s been walking a few paces ahead this entire time, antsy in a way Shorter has never seen him before. Not that he can blame him—everyone is eager to have their first stay in a real town after months in the frigid wilderness, and even though Cloudsmere is fairly small, it’s leaps and bounds better than the slick ice and endless snow and sleeping trees. There’s an inn with warm beds and hot water, restaurants with good food, and a post office where they can all send letters home to their families and loved ones:

The Darkness has been sealed.

The Winter Guard is no longer needed.

They’re all coming home.

“Say, Ash.” Shorter quickens his pace just enough to fall into step with him. “Lao and I are headed back to Moonvale, and Alex, Bones, ‘n’ Kong said they’re going all the way to the Emerald Hills. Where are you from? Got anyone waiting for you at home?”

“Mhm.”

Ash doesn’t elaborate. The wind picks up again, warmer now that they’re travelling south but still chilly enough to nip bitter teeth into every crack of exposed skin, and Shorter tugs his cloak a little tighter around himself, tired. He’s so ready to be done with this. It’ll be wonderful to feel real warmth again.

(He can go home with Lao, to a pot of Nadia’s hot soup, and little Sing—oh, he must have grown now, too—will run around excitedly and hug them and fall asleep in their laps just like he did when he was a baby, and it will be warm, warm in more ways than one.)

Shorter looks at Ash, his profile strong and noble against the wind. His hair is loose, billowing out around his face, and against the greenery peeping out from under winter’s shroud, his eyes shine like gemstones.

What waits for him? What does a person like Ash Lynx call home? He’s strong and stoic, the kind of person everyone can look up to and follow, but he’s never once shown vulnerability to the company. Shorter has only seen him open up on two occasions—the night of their first battle, when his sealing spell nearly killed him, and two months ago, in the dead of winter, when he lost his locket. He never did say what was inside.

Once they trudge up another slope and turn a bend in the path, city gates loom in the distance, and a ragged cheer goes up among their tired company. By the time they reach, it’s evening, and the melting sun is thick in the early springtime air, just barely clinging to the sky before its inevitable fall over the edge of night. People have gathered on the edges of the streets, and a much heartier cheer resounds as the gates open to welcome them home.

“Shit,” Alex breathes, behind him, and Shorter waits for him to catch up. “I’ve missed being in society. Holy shit, we’re going _home.”_

“We’re going home!” Shorter crows, clapping him on the shoulder. Exhilaration spirals up in his blood and out in a loud whoop, and he grabs Bones and twirls him around. “We’re almost home, guys!”

Flowers rain down like the gentlest of storms as they walk down the main road, heading from the gate into the heart of the town, to the inn they’ve been dreaming of. Shorter stares at its sign longingly—they have _hot springs—_ and only vaguely notes that there’s bound to be a real healer here, too, so their bumps and bruises and aches can have a chance to finally, finally be relieved.

The war is over. They’ve really done it. The Darkness is sealed.

Springtime is here.

“Aslan!” someone cries from the crowd, and Ash whips around, cloak billowing out around him as he tries to place a location to the voice. “Aslan! Aslan!”

Shorter watches, almost disbelieving, as someone comes tearing out of the crowd that’s gathered to welcome them and _tackles_ Ash. Ash, their strong and stoic captain who rarely ever cracks a grin. Ash, who—

Who catches the stranger around the waist, and scoops him up and twirls him around, and around, _laughing,_ until he loses his balance and they both topple to the ground in a heap.

Shorter stares. Bones’s mouth falls open.

“Have you ever seen him laugh before?” Alex whispers.

“No,” Lao whispers back. “The fuck?”

“Aslan, you’re home!” The newcomer wipes at his face before he flings his arms tight around Ash’s neck, and Ash buries his face in his hair. “You’re home, you’re home, I was so worried about you!”

Ash lifts his head and smiles, tender as a fresh rosebud that first begins to reach for the sun. “Why did you worry, Birdie? I promised you I’d come home to you, didn’t I?”

“Birdie” just laughs and extricates himself, getting to his feet, and holds out his hands. Ash takes them and _yanks,_ hauling Birdie back down into his lap, and both of them laugh again before Ash cups Birdie’s face, and apparently uncaring that Shorter and all his other friends are watching, pulls him into a kiss.

Shorter clears his throat after a long moment. “Sooo… Ash, you wanna introduce us?”

Ash looks up, a little dazed, as if he’s forgotten that the rest of them are there, or that he’s even sitting on the cold, muddy ground. “Uh… right. Guys, this is Eiji. Sweetie, these are the guys I’ve been fighting with. That’s Alex, this one’s Bones, there’s Kong, that’s Lao, and then the ugly one is Shorter.”

“Hey!”

Eiji lets out a snort that bubbles into a laugh, and Ash’s face fills with boyish delight, eyes shining brightly. “It is very nice to meet you all!”

When he tries to climb to his feet to, presumably, shake hands with the rest of them, Ash just tightens his arms around him and whines wordlessly. Eiji gives him a look and then shakes his head, hugging him again. They look like two halves of a whole, made to be together.

“You are a big baby,” he complains. “I can’t even be mad. But can’t we at least go inside? I’m cold.”

“Don’t worry. I can keep you warm,” Ash murmurs, kissing his cheek. “I’ve—"

Shorter gasps theatrically, not letting him finish his sentence. “Oohh, _Ash!_ So forward!”

Eiji squeaks. Ash’s eyes pulse with a flash of light, and the wind slams into him hard enough to knock him on his already-sore ass. The worst part is that Shorter can’t even really be surprised.

* * *

_vii. serenity_

* * *

Eiji hasn’t felt so complete in a long time.

He never tried to explain to anyone the emptiness, the hole in his heart where his Aslan was supposed to be all along. After he left home, his letters were sparse; most of hi stime was spent deep in the wilderness with his company, and the days when they came into trading posts or towns were few and far between. He went such long stretches of time just being empty, going about his days in a haze, not knowing, never knowing….

But now he knows.

And the Darkness is gone.

And Aslan is never planning to leave him again, and they’re finally, finally safe and happy.

He’s been back for a couple of days, but Eiji’s poor little heart still hasn’t stopped skipping a beat and rejoicing openly every time he sees him. It’s real. They’re really here again, together and safe, and winter has passed and spring is here and they’re going to be fine.

There’s a knock on the door, and Eiji looks up. “Come in!”

The door swings open to reveal Ash’s fellow soldier, Alex. He looks around for Eiji before realizing he’s not behind the apothecary counter, and Eiji lifts one hand from Aslan’s back to wave.

“I am down here,” he murmurs, keeping his voice soft enough not to disturb Aslan. The couch is too tiny for him to possibly get up without waking him, and waking him would be akin to disturbing a sleeping kitten. “Sorry, I can’t get up, but the potions you asked for are on the counter! Take one every day before bed for the next week, and you will feel better.”

“Mrrp?” Aslan stirs, and Eiji quickly kisses the top of his head and rubs his back.

“No, no, shh, sleep,” he murmurs, pulling the blanket back up. “It’s okay.”

Aslan just sighs and snuggles a little closer, content and soft. When Eiji looks back up, Alex is staring.

“What?”

Alex ducks his head, abashed. “Sorry—it’s just I’ve never seen him like that before.”

Eiji blinks. “Sleeping?”

“No! I mean… yeah, but… well, more like _vulnerable,_ I guess.” Alex shrugs. “He’s always been very, uh… a loner, you know? It’s not bad! Just different to see him being… cute.”

Eiji wrinkles his nose. “He has always been cute,” he says, and then scrunches his fingers through Ash’s hair. “But maybe that’s just me.”

“Maybe.” Alex smiles, pausing in the doorway. “I think it is you.”

As the door closes behind him, Aslan stirs again, this time opening his eyes and blinking blearily. His eyes are as green as the spring yet to come. “Mm… Birdie?”

“Hi,” Eiji coos, kissing his forehead. He’s always been cute, he reflects—cute, soft, and open. Those are words he associates with his Aslan. Maybe not everyone gets to see this side of him, though, and that makes him want to just hold on tighter. “Did you have a nice nap?”

“Mhm.” Aslan stretches, but his legs are too long for Eiji’s tiny couch, and he ends up bumping his feet into the armrest at the other end. “Mmph. I’m all stiff.”

“Get up, then.” Eiji strokes his cheek, and he closes his eyes and leans his face into his touch. He really is just like a kitten—soft, sweet, trusting. “We can make tea, take blankets, and go sit in the garden to drink it. Does that sound good?”

Aslan hums, nuzzles into his neck, and reaches up to run idle fingers through his hair, slow and repetitive like the ripples flowing through the creek they grew up playing in. Maybe they can go back to it soon, now that he’s home, Eiji thinks. The snow is melting up in the mountains, and the water will be fresh and clear and cold.

“Sounds good,” Aslan mumbles, several seconds late. “Everything with you sounds good.”

Eiji laughs softly, slips a hand under his cheek and lifts his face up, and kisses the tip of his nose. “You are cute. What kind of tea?”

Aslan wrinkles his nose. “Surprise me,” he says, finally opening his eyes again. They’re green like new leaves, like springtime, like new beginnings. “I’m not awake enough to figure out what’s in your tea cabinet.”

“Don’t worry.” Eiji smiles down at him, kisses his forehead again, and looks out to the garden and its slowly-emerging greenery. “We’ll figure it out together.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on { [twitter](https://twitter.com/songbirdrimi) } { [tumblr](https://eijispumpkin.tumblr.com/) }


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